


Dog Days

by phaelsafe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Hellhounds, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phaelsafe/pseuds/phaelsafe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's gotta do the chores 'round here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> This might be the shortest thing I've ever written, and I wrote this back when Crowley was amusing. I can't believe I didn't post it, but that just might be because it is so short. And silly. This is silly. 
> 
> Bobby/Crowley if you squint sideways at it, really. 
> 
> For, and inspired by, Frickley: http://phaelsafe.tumblr.com/post/21438135390/frickley-ive-been-trying-to-convince-some

"How the Hell am I supposed to clean these runs if I can't see the damn things in the first place?" Bobby hollers over his shoulder, lead in hand as he lifts the latch of the gate. Somehow, the metal fences keep the beasts in check, but Crowley refuses to tell the hunter how that works. He glances around worriedly, waiting for the telltale sign of an incoming hellhound.

Nothing.

Maybe Crowley took it for a walk... Bobby is suddenly wildly windmilling his arms as he slides through something squishy and warm enough to feel through his heavy work boot. He catches his balance, grimacing at the smell of sulfur and dog shit now wafting through the air.

"Jesus _Christ!_ " he mutters under his breath, which elicits a growl from the back of the kennel. The sound of claws clicking against the concrete, then paws pounding against the dirt is the only warning Bobby gets before a heavy weight pounces, knocking the wind right out of him.

They tumble to the ground, and Bobby makes a genuine effort to dislodge the creature, but the hellhound just sits atop his chest, panting in the hunter's face.

"EUUGHH! Crowley!" he yells, his nose scrunching up in revulsion. Bobby twists away, attempting to find dog-breath free air. "That could peel the paint from walls. What in God's name are you feeding these things?"

"Proper dog chow: whole cattle, pig entrails ...the occasional underachieving demon. You know, the usual," the King of Hell says as he steps into Bobby's field of view.

Crowley looms above Bobby, a smug grin spreading across his face -- he'd almost look menacing if it weren't for the stack of newspapers in his arms. Bobby glares at the upside-down image of the demon and huffs, "Ain't nothing usual about any of this. How'd you talk me into this?"

"Daisy, come," Crowley commands, giving a sharp whistle.

It obeys, knocking the wind out of Bobby again as it all but launches off the hunter's prone form. Bobby rolls over, pushes up onto his knees -- adamantly staying upright and away from his messy boots -- as he brushes dirt and invisible fur from his clothing.

Crowley crouches down and shoves the newspapers into Bobby's arms before reaching out and grabbing an armload of nothing. "Who's a good boy? Are you a good boy, Daisy? Yes, you are. Yes, you _are!_ "

"Daisy...? Okay, then," Bobby says, his eyebrows flying up toward the brim of his cap at the affectionate display. "Um, what are these for?"

Snatching the lead from Bobby as he stands, Crowley loops it around Daisy's intangible neck and turns on his heel, adding "You'll want to put those on the floor while we potty train him."

Bobby frowns, his forehead creasing as he thinks. Then, his eyes go wide, and he chases after Crowley and the hellhound. "No way! He ain't staying in _the house!_ "


End file.
